


A Selfish Act

by ChrisHemsworthsWifey, My_OTP_will_kill_me (orphan_account)



Series: A Selfish Act Can Sometimes Be Selfless [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A little Gory, Alternate Universe- Bilbo Dies, Azog is a douche, BAMF Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins Dies, Bilbo is related to a fairy, Bilbo saves Thorin, Dwarves have Ones, F/M, Fairies, M/M, Protective Thorin, Sassy Bilbo, Sorry Not Sorry, Thorin Feels, Thorin Is an Idiot, Thorin saves Bilbo, acorns, are real and posses magic powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:53:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4336373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisHemsworthsWifey/pseuds/ChrisHemsworthsWifey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/My_OTP_will_kill_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When faced with danger, Bilbo is able to harness the fairy power within him, but will that be his downfall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Selfish Act

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Selfish Act](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856326) by [My_OTP_will_kill_me (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/My_OTP_will_kill_me). 



> Hello to all readers!!! To people visiting after reading from the other story, welcome, and I hope you like me as much as my friend!
> 
> Now, again to those coming from My_OTP_will_kill_me, I will now be addressing you guys :) I am friends with the previous author, and though the entirety of the story was hers, she has given me the rights to it, so that I may continue and change things the way I would like to see it done, so things will be different! Another thing, my friend, if you didn't already know, orphaned her account. She, due to personal reasons, is unable to finish the fic, and sends a huge apology and wishes that things were different. She is recovering slowly, and sends her love to each of you who has read her fic(s).  
> If you have checked out the other fic of hers, A Gypsy And His Captain, I will also be taking over that fic, so stay tuned!! 
> 
> I hope that you all enjoy this fic!! My friend has worked really hard on it, and I hope to do it justice with my own thoughts and additions to it :) !!!!!!!

Thorin could only stand in horror as he watched his greatest nemesis hold his son in the air over the high ledge.

 

 _This can’t be happening,_ he thought, helplessly. _Not Fíli. Not my son. Take me instead! This isn’t their fight!_

 

“No!” Fíli cried when Dwalin made a run toward the ruined buildings of Raven Hill. Thorin knew Azog could see the fear on his face by the feral smile he shot his way; but he didn’t care. He was more than afraid, or scared. Thorin Oakenshield, for the first time in his life, felt absolutely terrified. Even more so then when Smaug had come.

Thorin watched as Azog shouted out to them in black speech, raising his knifed arm to gut his nephew.

Just as Thorin was about to scream in rage for the lose of his sister son’s life, Azog’s face twisted in confusion while he opened his mouth wide to shout. Whether at his soldiers, or just in general, Thorin did not know.

Thorin and Dwalin watched in bewilderment when no sound came out of Azog’s mouth, but he instead began to gag as if struggling to breath.

In his manic behavior, Azog threw Fíli off the ledge to the ground below them, allowing his hand to claw at the invisible thing around his neck. Thorin’s heart raced at the sight, watching the flash of yellow and brown before it disappeared behind buildings.

Fíli’s pained cursing was a reassurance to Thorin as he stood on his tiptoes in hopes of seeing his bright, blonde head. He saw a small speck of color and assumed Kíli had found his brother to help him.

Thorin whipped his head around the area, looking for the pointy grey hat that could be the only known source for this mischievousness. His eyes landed not on a tall, grey man, but on a tiny hobbit who was faintly.... _glowing_?

Bilbo was slowly making his way up some rock debris that formed a small perch. His arm was straight out in front of him in Azogs direction, hand out as if to choke someone....and his _eyes_. Thorin had looked into the eyes of his burglar many a time before, and knew first hand that his eyes were as bright as the shiniest green emeralds, but never had Bilbo’s eyes actually glowed like a green flame.

The dwarf could only observe in awe as Bilbo stopped at the top of the small rock heep, face blank of emotion as he stared down the creature that Thorin hated more than any dragon. When Thorin glanced back up, he was shocked to find Azog’s usual white head a bright shade of red.

 

“You will not harm a hair on that boy's head,” Bilbo seethed, his voice so unlike his normal high and happy tone. It was thunderous, deep, and gravelly, and reminded Thorin so much of the noises the rock giants made in the storm over the Misty Mountains, yet louder all the same.

Thorin watched in amusement as Azog’s men turned and ran back into the tower, and felt his lips twitch up when he saw the fear in Azog’s face.

Bilbo’s head snapped to the fleeing men's direction, and with a flick of his wrist, Azog went flying through the air over them both, hitting the large rocks behind them. Thorin fought back the triumphant smile as Azog slumped to the ground in a pathetic heap. When Thorin turned back around, what he saw was not at all what he was expecting.

Thorin watched the sky darken. Goblins, orcs, trolls, wargs, and those terrible winged bat creatures were plucked from the grounds of Erebor, Dale, and behind them from the North, and were thrown into the air high above the towers in front of them. With terrible screeches, the beings tried in vain to get back to solid ground, but only gathered closer above them all in a swirling mound.

Bilbo continued to stand on his little rock perch, moving his arms gracefully around him. The small movements seeming to control the mass of creatures above the small hobbit, as he moved and shaped them all into a spinning ball.

 

“Hear my words,” Bilbo bellowed over the screeching, surprising Dwalin and himself in it’s loudness. Thorin stumbled to stay standing, digging orcist into the ground for support. “Never again shall you come within miles of these lands.” The snarling, howls, and growls grew within the lump, causing Thorin’s grip on orcist to tighten instinctively.

“I cast you back to the fiery pit from whence you came!” With a toss, Bilbo appeared to throw the ball south of Erebor towards Gondor(if Thorin was correct on his geography, but he had been informed many a time that he was quite bad at it).

Thorin’s eyes snapped to the high tower, where the blonde elf from Mirkwood stood on the roof. His eyes wide, and mouth hanging open while he watched the ball fly farther and farther till it was out of view.

 

 _Stupid elves with their climbing. Have they no decency?_ Thorin took a moment to think over his own question. _No. No they don’t._

 

From below, Thorin could hear the battle cheer go up, and saw with pride as the great blue and gold flag of Erebor was dropped from the gateway. With an exhausted heave, Bilbo slouched over, placing his hands on his knees and panting for air before he collapsed over his perch, falling to the ground below. Thorin bolted towards him, catching him before he was able to hit the ground. Every so gently, Thorin lowered them both, setting Bilbo gingerly in his lap.

 

“Is ‘e alright?” Dwalin asked, coming up behind him. Thorin checked Bilbo over, looking for any grievous injuries, and felt his shoulders sag in relief when he found none. Thorin’s breath caught when brilliant green eyes slowly fluttered open, and found his.

 

“Master Baggins?” Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut in pain, lifting his hand to his head with a groan.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you,” he moaned, glaring up at him. “Call me Bilbo. Ugh, my head! What in Yavanna’s name happened?” Thorin couldn’t help but grin down at him, and place a small kiss to his forehead.

 

“You never cease to amaze me, Master Burglar,” he told him reverently, loving the small blush that crept up his burglar’s neck and rosy cheeks.

 

 _Not your burglar anymore_ , his mind told himself, killing any and all happiness he might have felt. Not after what you did at the gate.

 

Thorin had wanted to physically slap himself once he came to his senses after the gold sickness. He knew he still needed to have a talk with his friends, and ask them to tie him up and throw him in a closet should he fall to the gold sickness again.

He noticed Bilbo’s knowing eyes watch him, and that was the last straw for Thorin who knew he shouldn’t even be within a mile of Bilbo’s presence. With a grunt, Thorin began to adjust Bilbo, to what he thought would be a more comfortable position, when Bilbo hissed in pain. Thorin was immediately there, looking over Bilbo for an injury he might have missed, but was instead hit by  Bilbo’s small hand that smacked against his chest.

 

“Stop moving!” he demanded, his eyes shut in pain while his other hand rubbed at his temple. “I feel like my head is going to explode with every breath I take. Oh, it hurts!” he groaned, sliding his hand off of Thorin’s chest to rub at the other temple. With a defeated sigh, Bilbo squinted up at Dwalin. His eyes grew bright at the sight of Dwalin’s hammer clutched defensively in his hands.

“Oh, Master Dwalin, thank Eru. Do me a favor, and just,” he began, leaning back out of Thorin’s grasp and exposing his head to the other dwarf. “Smash my head into the ground.” Thorin could feel his treturous lips lift up into a smile at his- _the_ hobbit’s antics. Dwalin looked displeased by the display, and turned to Thorin, ignoring Bilbo’s huff of annoyment.

 

“I’ll go look for Fíli and Kíli.” With a nod of approval from him, Dwalin jumped the ledge of ice and trotted over to the crumbling buildings, eyes scanning his surroundings for any filth that might have escaped Bilbo’s power.

 

_Speaking of Bilbo’s power…._

“I can feel you staring at me,” Bilbo said after a moment of Thorin watching him. “Look, I-”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thorin blurted out, mentally smacking his forehead with his rude behvior. Bilbo’s eyes snapped open to meet his in shock, his lips parted ever so slightly.

 

“Wha-” Bilbo cut himself off, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “What are you sorry about?”

 

“I’m sorry I fell to the gold sickness. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you tried to stop a war. I’m sorry I tried to throw you off-” Thorin’s jaw snapped shut at the words he couldn’t even bare utter, ashamed that his voice had broken at the last word.

“And, I’m sorry for everything else that you can possibly think of that I might have done that was wrong.” Bilbo’s eyes had softened, making Thorin feel sick inside at how quick the hobbit was able to forgive someone of something that should have been unforgivable.

 

“I’m sorry, too. I-”

 

“Bilbo Baggins, don’t you dare try to apologize when you don’t need to,” Thorin warned. With a sigh, Bilbo lifted his hand to the side of Thorin’s face, and gently cupped his scruffy cheek.

 

“But I do. I should not have stolen from you. Like I have tried to tell you blasted dwarves this entire adventure, I am not a burglar. I also want to say,” Bilbo interrupted him before he could protest. “I forgave you the moment I slid down the rope.” Thorin’s little intake of breath had him clearing his throat of the emotions that had filled him.

“Do I still think you’re a dunderhead? Yes, of course I do.” Thorin smirked down at the wonderful hobbit being in his hands who smiled fondly back up at him. “But you’re a wonderful dunderhead. You’re my dunderhead.” Thorin had never heard a sweeter, or grander compliment.

“You’re my wonderful, handsome, insane dunderhead who didn’t know what was going on,” Bilbo said lovingly, smoothing the scruff on Thorin’s face. “Now, help me up please,” he grumbled, sitting up to face Thorin.

 

“I thought your head hurt?” Thorin asked, with a sinking suspicion. Bilbo shook his head, his curls flying about his face.

 

“Not really. It kinda hurts, but I don’t actually feel it unless I’m laying down.” Thorin shook his head in irritation, knowing how Bilbo could keep illnesses and pains a secret from people who needed to know. “Anyways, I think you want to know more about what happened, than how my head is doing.” Thorin pursed his lips.

 

“I worry about both.” Bilbo rolled his eyes in a very mature fashion.

 

“Yes, yes, but you already know the answer to how my head is.” Thorin didn’t like it, but he was going to let Bilbo’s headache slide, hoping that he would at least go to Oín if it ended up getting really bad.

 

“So, what happened?” Thorin watched as Bilbo shuffled around on the snow, trying to get comfortable on his seat. Once he was content, he pulled his knees up to his chest, slowly rocking side to side.

 

“Do you remember how I told you that there are really old tales in the Shire?” Thorin nodded. “Well, one of those tales is that when Yavanna was first married to Aulё-your maker-she conceived, and gave birth to fairies.” Thorin made a face, not fully liking or understanding where this story was going.

“Don’t ask, I don’t know why. Anyways, when Yavanna named her children, she named them after the blessing she would bestow upon them. For example, there was Love, Kindness, Charity, Beauty, Truth, and so on and so forth. I know, kinda lame, but I won’t judge.” Bilbo paused to cough into his elbow, apologizing before continuing.

“Well, the fairies grew up to be good, and most of them used their blessing to help others like they were supposed to. Beauty would go around the forest, helping it to flourish with flowers, or go and help people see their inner beauty."

"Truth would help find out the truth when someone was wronged, or could be trusted because they always told the truth. But, like every story, there were a few who soon started using their gifts for themselves, or used them for bad instead of good."

"Beauty would stay at home, ensuring that he looked his best before anything else, and soon he became infatuated by his own reflection. Truth began to use his trust he had built up with others, to lie and spread rumours about people who had wronged him. Soon, everything got out of hand, and Yavanna got fed up with it.” Thorin hadn’t realized he had leaned in closer towards Bilbo with his every word, till he jerked back to his sitting position.

“So she made a rule, that if any of her children used their gift against their blessing, or for personal reasons, they would die and have to live in the Gardens of Waiting, which is said to be a separate place that Yavanna made for peace and quiet from her husband.” Thorin wanted to have understood the hobbit, really he did. But he didn’t, and said as much.

“So, for example, if Beauty looked in the mirror and helped his own appearance before those around him, his insides would slowly be crushed till he was dead.” Thorin cocked his head to the side at the gruesome detail of this poor fairy’s death.

 

“That….is kind of harsh,” he finally said after a moment. Bilbo nodded in agreement, eyes wide in understanding as he continued.

 

“That’s what Aulё thought, which is said to be the cause of their separation. Anyways, most of the fairies died out by the time Yavanna created hobbits. One of the surviving fairies was Selfless, and she fell in love and gave birth to someone on the Took side. She died only because once her husband had died, she refused to leave her house to help anyone at all.” Thorin blinked at him.

 

“You’re half Took,” Thorin said slowly, as if afraid to say it and be wrong with the complicated names in Bilbo's family he just couldn't get right. Bilbo nodded, much to Thorin’s relief.

 

“They’ve always said that the fairy blood would only be activated in desperate times, and since there hasn’t been any, no one has been deemed one of the fairy’s descendant. So most thought it all to be a big childrens tale that you tell your children at bedtime.”

 

“I’m guessing you didn’t,” Thorin assumed by the way Bilbo scoffed at the very thought that it was all a fable. Bilbo smirked at his hands while he made little markings in the snow.

 

“My mother’s stories were always different from the other parent’s.” Bilbo breathed in deeply through his nose, letting it all out in a gust of hot air. “She was an adventurer, my mother.”

 

“Like mother like son.” Bilbo’s startled chuckle made Thorin’s insides melt.

 

“You’re right,” he laughed. “You’re absolutely right. Oh, she must be celebrating in her grave to know I have done something that may have out scandalized her. Ugh!” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Hobbits are gonna have a field day when they see what I have become.” Thorin’s mood soured at the thought of someone being rude to Bilbo back in the Shire.

 

_AAAAAHHHH!!!!!! He has to go back to the Shire!!!!!_

 

Thorin’s breath hitched at the thought of Bilbo being so far away from him. Thorin knew he couldn’t keep him from his home if he did not want to stay with him, but he had to try and convince Bilbo that there was something here on this side of Middle Earth that was as cool, or cooler than anything the Shire had.

At Bilbo’s worried gaze, Thorin reached for his hand and clasped it tightly between his large, calloused ones.

 

“I would have you stay,” he begged, watching the confusion fill his hobbits eyes. “With me. In Erebor, I-I would have you stay.” Bilbo’s lips began to lift in the corners with every passing second, and with every passing second Bilbo did not answer, Thorin felt like he was going to go into cardiac arrest.

 

“I would love too.” Thorin breathed a sigh of relief, his smile bright and happy. He leaned in to kiss his wonderful, beloved, amaz-

“Nah-ah-ugh.” Thorin’s lips were stopped by a tiny, dirty hand shoved up to them instead of soft lips like he had expected. Thorin wrenched his head away, spitting into the snow and wiping at his mouth.

 

“Bilbo!” he whined, spitting dirt out of his mouth.

 

“One step at a time, your highness,” Bilbo scolded, his eyes sparkling with humour. Just as Thorin was about to correct him of the title, his mouth silently fell open at the realization. He, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, was going to be the King of the Lonely Mountain. He would fulfill his birthright in the place of his forefathers.

Thorin glanced back at Bilbo who smiled sweetly up at him.

“I will follow you anywhere, my King.” Thorin shut his eyes tight at the burn that filled his eyes at the promise. At the soft sound of shuffling, Thorin peered up at Bilbo who was kneeling in front of him.

“Now, now,” he soothed, brushing Thorin’s errant strands of hair away from his face. His soft thumbs brushed against Thorin’s cheeks, wiping at the single tear that had been shed.

“This may be a time to mourn, but also a time to celebrate.” Bilbo’s smile fell, and his eyes filled with sadness as a thought crossed his mind.

“Fíli survived, right?” he pleaded, voice no louder than a whisper. Thorin rushed to ease his worries.

 

“I heard him swearing after Azog dropped him over the ledge. I think he’s okay, and no doubt Dwalin has found him and helping him with his injuries.” Bilbo sighed in relief, resting his head on Thorin’s shoulder with a content hum.

 

“I’m glad. I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to harness the power inside of me. My mother had hinted in being able to, but no one has officially been able to fully harness since Selfless passed away hundreds of years ago.”

 

“Until today,” Thorin countered, his eyebrows raised in pride. Bilbo smiled up at him, lifting his hand to his own face to brush his rampant curls out of his eyes.

 

“Until today, yes.” They sat in each others embrace for a moment, lingering in the feel of the other. It comforted Thorin to know that Bilbo did not mind being so close to him, and actually initiated the few touches made between the two.

“I knew you would come back to me,” Bilbo whispered, pressing his forehead against Thorin’s. Thorin stared at Bilbo with wide eyes. “I knew you would fight it, the moment you were ensnared by the gold sickness.” Thorin’s arms tightened around Bilbo instinctively when he trembled in his grasp.

 

“I’m so sorr-”

 

“Like I said,” Bilbo interrupted him. “All is forgiven.” Thorin closed his eyes, tears trailing down his cheek at the unthinkable- unimaginable thing Bilbo was giving him. Forgiveness.

“You’re still a dunderhead.” Thorin wouldn’t dare hold back the smile that brought to him.

 

“Your dunderhead, if I am correct.” Bilbo gave one firm nod of his head in approval.

 

“And don’t you forget it.” Thorin chuckled lightly at the remark, loving the dazzling smile it brought to his hobbit’s face.

“Come on,” Bilbo urged, patting his shoulder. “Let’s go find your nephews and the others.”  Together they stood, and made their way to the towers, the little rock perch to their backs. Thorin’s very core tingled when Bilbo slid his hand into his, and squeezed teasingly.

They trudged over the ice covered lake, talking about the most efficient way to get Bilbo’s things to the mountain without him actually leaving the mountain, when they heard shouting.

Their heads both shot up, spotting Dwalin and Kili, who were supporting a hobbling Fili, while a soldier stood at their backs on the look out. At a glance up, the blonde elf of Mirkwood was being followed close behind him by a redhead elf.

 

_Ugh! It’s the one Kíli has a minor/major crush on….I hope she falls from the tower._

 

Once he thought that, Thorin noticed the way the two elves were jumping down the towers closer to them, notching arrows as they ran.

 

“Uncle! Get down!”-Kíli

 

“Thorin, behind you!”-Dwalin

 

“Look out!”-Fíli

 

Thorin barely had time to turn around, when he was kicked forcibly to the side. His head hit the rocks, and he fell to the ground, helpless. Thorin struggled to focus his eyes on the creature who dared to attack him, and-

 

“BILBO!” Thorin’s ears heard Kíli’s pained scream, and his heart stuttered to a hault. There, with a mighty roar, Azog swung a mace at his burglar, hitting Bilbo right in the chest with a sickening crunch, and sending him flying through the air. Bilbo landed on his back, his hands flying to his chest where he no doubt had a few broken ribs, making his breathing difficult.

Bilbo gasped for air, writhing on the ground to try and defend himself from Azog who began to stock Bilbo like an animal would his prey. Azog gritted out what Thorin had thought to be black speech, till he realized they were actual Westron words. The language sounded foul, and twisted coming out of his mouth.

 

“You dare attack me, and mine. You shall pay for what you have done, haffling!” Azog lifted Bilbo’s letter opener out of his reach, and held it above ready to strike down at any moment. Thorin shoved himself off the ground, clutching the rocks behind him for support.

 

_Bilbo. Must get to Bilbo. Why does he only have that blasted butter knife to defend himself with?!_

 

“AH!” Bilbo’s pained cry had Thorin’s head snapping up to watch as Azog struck Bilbo’s leg with sting, going further and further into his leg and through the ice. Bilbo laid on the ground in misery, pinned by the sword. With a feral grin, Azog turned to Thorin who growled and lunged towards his defenseless hobbit, ready to defend and protect till his last breath.

 

“Now watch, haffling, as I kill your filthy dwarf.”

 

Thorin had just enough time to duck the mace thrown at his head, and met the swing of Azog’s arm. He swung at Azog’s legs, ducking at the sword that barely grazed his neck.

Swinging and dodging every blow thrown his way, Thorin finally say what Azog was doing. He was playing with him.

With a mighty shout, Thorin sliced at the back of Azog’s calf, reveling in the pained cry the orc let out when he hit. They continued dancing around the other, thrusting and parrying the others swing. Azog drove his arm up, threatening to stab through Thorin’s gut. Thorin swung his sword down and orcist caught in between the prongs of Azog’s blade. Thorin realized his mistake too late.

With a flick of his arm, Azog managed to get orcists out of Thorin’s hand. Thorin ducked when Azog swung his great arm at him, running under his legs and turning to kick Azog’s behind.

Azog screamed in rage, turning around faster than Thorin had thought, and gripped Thorin’s neck in his hand. Azog lifted Thorin off the ground, cutting of his airways, and leaving his feet to kick in the air as he tried to hit Azog in any available surface.

Azog laughed at his futile attempts to escape his hold, his fingers closing around his neck even more. Thorin heard the whistle of the arrow, and he watched as arrows flew through the air, hitting Azog in the back. Each arrow landed in places that should have brought the foul thing to the dirt where he belonged, but only further spurred him on in his antics.

 

"Now," Azog shouted. He spun around so Thorin was in the way of anymore on coming arrows, one which hit him in the leg.

 

“Sorry!” came Kili’s high pitch shout. Azog paid them no mind, enjoying the pain that flashed through Thorin’s features as Azog ripped the arrow out of his leg.

 

“Now, you die." Thorin clutched at the sickly, scared, white arm, trying with his might to get away. His head was spinning, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier the longer he stayed in Azog’s grasp….well, one of the Azog’s, as he saw four in his vision.

 

"NO!" The thunderous, deep, roar caused the very ground beneath them to quake. Azog’s head whipped around at the cry, and Thorin would never forget the look on his face.

Azog went from furious, to terrified in less than a millisecond, as he slowly tried to slunk away from the floating hobbit in front of them.

There, hovering in the air with his arms outstretched, was Bilbo. Though his face was blank and expressionless the first time he had harnessed the fairy power, his face held nothing but rage.

“Release him!” Azog stopped in his tracks, his rebellious nature and proud ego kicking in. He difiantly squeezed tighter around Thorin’s neck. The white orc glared up at Bilbo, and shook his head, like a child refusing to give their parent a toy when asked.

Bilbo’s lips twitched up in a smirk, lowering his chin slowly to his chest while glaring at Azog who began to tremble again under the sheer power of Bilbo, and the realization that he might have just made a mistake.

“So be it.” Bilbo closed his right hand into a fist before quickly opening it back up again. With a pained cry, Azog’s fingers all snapped back to meet the back of his hand, breaking in the movement.

Thorin fell to the earth, gasping in heavy breaths of air while the wind began to pick up around him. He glanced back up in time to watch as Bilbo slowly began to raise his left hand, lifting Azog up simultaneously to meet his gaze.

 

“I will take your dwarf from you,” Azog spat at Bilbo, catching the hobbit off guard. “You will never see the life in him again. You will be alone!” Thorin watched the way Bilbo’s mouth dropped ever so slightly, the small pained gasp escaping his pale lips. With a ferocious growl, Bilbo’s expression became murderous. He flexed his hand, making Azog spasm in the air.

 

“Azog, the Defiler!” Bilbo’s voice boomed, loud enough that Thorin did not doubt that the dwarves back on the battlefield could hear him. “As long as Middle Earth is home to someone, you will never harm the line of Durin again!” Azog grinned up at him, and shouted above the winds.

 

“And how will you stop me, hafling?” Thorin held his breath as the wind suddenly stopped, and all noise ceased around them. With a smile of his own, Bilbo lowered his arms, and his glow fell away till he was nothing but his normal hobbity self.

 

“I was hoping you would ask.”

 

In one fluid motion, Bilbo flicked his hands up to his sides, palms facing Azog. Bilbo seemed to grow in size as his entire being flared in a brilliant green light. His body turned black, leaving his eyes and the space around him to glow a blinding, verdant green. Thorin squinted his eyes, shielding them with his hands to watch as Azog wailed in agony.

Azog’s entire body was shaking in the air while the winds picked up around them, biting at Thorin’s cheeks with it’s iciness. Azog twisted and folded in on himself, making noises that Thorin swore sounded like begging and pleading. Thorin stared at the scared back as it began to ever so faintly, glow a pale yellow. Bilbo flexed his hand out, and Azog’s body whipped back, his arms and legs shooting out spread eagle. The pale, white face looked up to the sky allowing Thorin to see what was happening to the thing. A small flame began to grow within the orc’s mouth, growing and spreading throughout him till his entire being burst into flame. Bilbo was burning Azog from within.

As quickly as it happened, the flame, winds, and bright green light of his hobbit was gone, leaving them in a clouded darkness.

Thorin heaved, and opened his eyes to watch the clouds fall away and the mountain fill with light once more.

 

 _Bilbo. Where is Bilbo?!_ Thorin’s eyes fled to the other side of the lake, finding the tiny creature laying on his back. Thorin had to fight back the strangled cry he felt build inside of him at the sight of his hobbit. So still, as if….

Thorin scurried over to Bilbo’s form, not allowing his thoughts to go any further on the ludicrous image of himself alone at a funeral that should never and will never happen.

Thorin finally made it to Bilbo, his hands unwilling to touch incase of inner injuries which he knew his hobbit had. He moved his ear to Bilbo’s mouth, exhaling a sigh of relief when he felt the warm breath ghost over the shell of his ear.

 

_He’s probably exhausted after using his powers. I need to get him down to Oín somehow._

 

“Thorin!” Dwalin’s crazed shout calmed Thorin in his panic. Panting, Dwalin came up behind him and inhaled sharply at the sight of Bilbo.

“Is ‘e-” Thorin shook his head viciously, clearing his throat and mind of the wretched thought.

 

“No. I believe he used to much of his power for one day. I fear he has some broken ribs, and other bones, and we need to get his leg seen to as swiftly as possible,” he explained, already wrapping part of his tunic around the leg to help stop the blood flow. Dwalin jerked his head forward once. Thorin knew his friend was happy to hear of the hobbits safeness, even if he wouldn’t show it. He and Bilbo had fought side by side to protect Thorin the first time Azog struck. Though Bilbo had reached him first, Dwalin had explained that Orí was slipping off the tree branch, and Dwalin knew Bilbo could handle Azog on his own.

At some scuffling, Thorin turned in time to see the redhead and blonde elves from Mirkwood exchange a few words with Kíli, before jumping down the mountain.

 

“Yer alright?” Thorin nodded, glancing briefly at his leg, then up at his long life friend. Dwalin rolled his eyes, and looked up to three dwarves making their way slowly towards them. On the left was Kíli, supporting an angry looking Fíli in the middle. On Fíli’s left was a soldier, their weapon still drawn in cautiousness.

Thorin was tempted to run and tackle his eldest son for putting him through something so stressful, he knew he lost a decade worrying over him. The shielded warrior came up behind Fíli, and wacked him in the head. Thorin narrowed his eyes at the warrior, catching both the stranger and Fíli’s attention.

 

“Uncle, this is Leoláin, daughter Dáin, shieldmaiden of the Iron Hills,” Fíli introduced, nodding his head back at her with approval. “She also saved my life after I fell.” The young maiden sheathed her sword and removed her helmet, letting her hair fall in a single fishtail, braided elegantly down her back, and looked as thick as a tree. Thorin was surprised to see not a single hair on her chin or cheeks, her sideburns barely passing her ears. The shieldmaiden stepped forward and bowed more respectfully than was needed for a woman of her status.

 

“Hail Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thror, King under the Mountain.” Thorin startled at the title given, then inclined his head to her greeting with the respect she deserved. “I am….well, I guess he already told you.” She pointed a glare at Fíli who shrugged at her with a grin, earning a tiny smack at the back of the head that the young maiden feigned innocence about. Thorin was beginning to like her more and more.

“I pray your friend is well?” She inclined to Bilbo who laid motionless, sides the weak rise and fall of his chest. Thorin turned back to watch his hobbit, about to answer her when little eyelids fluttered open. Thorin scrambled to help Bilbo, his hands floating uselessly over his body.

 

“Bilbo?” Bilbo smiled up at Thorin, eyes a glittering green, when Bilbo’s face contorted in pain. With a pained gasp, Bilbo gripped Thorin’s hand and squeezed with all his might. Thorin grunted over the pain, struggling to give his hobbit any sort of relief. But, if that meant breaking his fingers, then so be it.

Bilbo settled into the ice, whimpering and begging for the pain to stop. Thorin could only watch uselessly, listening to Bilbo’s voice break as he pleaded for someone to end the suffering. Bilbo’s stuttered, uneven, harsh breaths scared Thorin, who began to fear the worst for his small hobbit.

 

“You will be okay, Bilbo,” Thorin hushed more to himself than to the hobbit, who began to ease in the ground, gritting his teeth in pain. “We’re going to get you help, and then you will rest and get better, and stay with me here, in the mountain.” Bilbo’s broken laugh sent fear through Thorin’s body. His hobbit slowly shook his head, coughing heartily into the air.

 

“Hold….me?” Bilbo begged. Thorin wanted to say no, knowing he could further injure the precious treasure within his reach.

“P-please?” Thorin couldn’t and wouldn’t deprive that voice of anything. Carefully, ever so carefully so as not to jostle Bilbo, Thorin lifted his priceless gem into his arms.

 

“D-dy-dying-”

 

“No, you’re not,” Thorin interrupted him harshly, refusing to even think that an option.

 

_There is no option! Bilbo will not die. What is dying? I don’t know. But whatever it is, Bilbo is not doing it!_

 

“You’ll be fine. A few broken ribs, and maybe a bit of scarring, but dwarves find scars rather attractive, and-”

 

“R-r-ram...bling,” Bilbo’s scolding voice cut Thorin off, something the dwarf was rather thankful for.

“Thorin,” Bilbo rushed out, the first word he had been able to say without stuttering or pausing for breath. “I-I-I’m...dy-ing-”

 

“Stop saying that. Why would you say that?!” Thorin’s pained voice cried out. “You are going to be fine.” Bilbo shook his head, inhaling in agony a ragged breath through his nose that made Thorin cringe at the sound.

 

“S-s-selfish….a-act,” he stuttered, blood spluttering out of the corner of his lips. Thorin’s brain wasn’t comprehending what that could possibly have to do with anything, and what act could Bilbo have made that would even be remotely considered selfish.

 

“What?” Thorin couldn’t help but bellow, eyes wide in panic as Bilbo struggled to breath in.

“You have done nothing wrong. You saved my nephews, kin, and home. You have saved me, and more than this once. You have done nothing but help others!” Bilbo let out a tiny whimper that Thorin thought had been caused by his temper, only to reel at the bone crunching noise from Bilbo’s feet. Thorin looked at Bilbo’s legs in horror. The hairy feet curled forward, as if all the bones had been crushed to smithereens. Bilbo's agonizing scream that accompanied it, would haunt Thorin all the way to the Halls of his fathers.

 

“S-saved y-your….life,” Bilbo explained when he got control of himself once again. Thorin stared down at the hobbit in shock and fear at what his burglar could be implying. Through stunted breaths, Bilbo whispered out a small phrase to Thorin that brought his world to crashing halt.

“C-c-can’t….li-live without….y-you. ….S-se-selfish.” Bilbo let out a wet laugh that morphed into a whimper as another bone crushing noise came from Bilbo’s legs. Thorin couldn’t muster the strength to look down and see the pain his hobbit had to be going through.

 

“That’s not selfish!” Kíli cried in outrage. “And what does Uncle Bilbo being selfish have anything to do with him dying, and what’s happening to his legs?” Thorin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the green emeralds below him. With hesitance, Thorin opened his mouth to explain to the bewildered dwarves behind him.

 

“Bilbo is a descendant of a fairy, known as Selfless.” With each of Bilbo’s struggled gasp, Thorin felt his eyes burn at the reality of what was going to happen to his hobbit. “A fairy will die if they do the opposite of what their name is. So, if Selfless, or a descendant of Selfless does something selfish, their bones will be crushed on the inside till they-” Thorin cut off, unable to finish the dreaded curse of a fairy. Thorin had expected to hear his nephews reply first, but was startled when it was Dwalin.

 

“Well, tha’s just about the dumbest thing I ever ‘eard….and I’ve been with these idiots for their entire lives!” His joke wasn’t enough to pick up anyone’s spirits, or even phase his nephews who sat in silence at the thought of losing Bilbo.

Thorin had watched his two nephews, and Orí, become good friends with Bilbo over the journey, and they had all come to the fondness of calling Bilbo their Uncle, something that secretly brought Bilbo happiness though he feigned annoyance at the nickname.

Thorin glanced down at the hand he was holding, concentrating on his thumb that he kept grazing over the warm skin.

 

“But, that’s not selfish,” Fíli said aloud, like no one had already thought that. “He was technically saving you. If anything that’s selfless.” Bilbo pained whimper caught everyone's attention. The hobbit shook his head as much as he could in his pain.

 

“I c-cou-couldn’t….l-l-live with….out h-h-him,” Bilbo’s pained explanation was worse than if Bilbo had simply stuck his hand in Thorin’s chest, yanked his heart out, and crushed it in front of his face.

 

“But why?” Thorin wailed, not able to contain himself when he heard the next bone crushing noise from one of his other legs, followed by a cut off scream. “Why would you do that?” Bilbo’s lips quirked up just enough to call it a smile.

 

“Peo-ple do c-c-craz-y things,” he stuttered, eyes finding Thorin’s easily. “When they’re i-i-in love.” At those words, Thorin broke physically, mentally, and emotionally. His eyes closed, spilling the tears that had built up, while he leant over and kissed his hobbits forehead. He tried not to flinch at the other crunch from Bilbo’s hand.

 

_He can’t mean…. He doesn’t feel the same…. He loves me?_

 

Thorin felt his heart call out for his One who was slowly dying before his very eyes in the most painful way possible; and all he could do was sit, hold him, and cry.

 

“I love you too, my wonderful burglar.” Bilbo’s wet laugh at the old name made Thorin’s heart shatter at the fact that he was about to never see or hear that beautiful laugh again. Thorin heard sniffles from behind him, and the sound of feet scuffling over to someone else. He guessed that his youngest nephew was finding comfort with his eldest, as per usual when it came to the two of them.

At the last crunch, Bilbo shouted in agony, clenching his jaw tight to hold back his cries as both his arms were now paralyzed. Thorin moved his head side to side.

 

“What can I do?” he pleaded to anyone that was listening. He could feel Bilbo’s arm next to him, go limp and sluggish.

 

“S-s-sing?” Thorin glanced down at Bilbo who was trying desperately not to close his eyes.

 

 _Sing?_ Thorin slowly began to nod his head. _Okay, I can do that. I can do that. Sing…. Sing what?!_

 

From behind, Thorin heard the soft hum of Fíli’s voice before Kíli’s, Dwalin's, and even Leoláin’s voices joined in. It was a lullaby in Westron that was well known to dwarves, given the meaning behind the words in the song. With a steady breath, Thorin began to sing.

 

**When I think of the memories,**

**We shared long ago,**

**There's a part deep within me,**

**That wants you to know.**

**Though you left without warning,**

**And we’re sad to say goodbye,**

**I have faith that soon someday,**

**You'll be by my side.**

Thorin felt Bilbo’s breaths getting increasingly less as he continued singing, making him fear the inevitable future for his beloved hobbit. Thorin tried to relax when he noticed his shaking arms. With a gruff voice, he continued to sing for his beloved.

 

**I promise you,**

**I'll answer your plea.**

**I swear it's true,**

**Just trust in me.**

**My love for you,**

**Will always live on.**

**Like a song,**

**A simple melody.**

Bilbo gasped, shivering into Thorin’s side, before there was one last crunch that would haunt Thorin’s dreams. Then, Bilbo Baggins, went still, his eyes aimlessly staring at the sky.

No noise, or movement came from the hobbit as he laid in Thorin’s arms. Thorin shook his head, not believing that his hobbit was gone, and continued the song for his One, fulfilling his last wish. The others humming had stopped some time ago, but Thorin would carry on without them.

 

**Ever since you just left me, here all alone,**

**I remember, you told me what I should have known:**

**‘Love last forever, every single day.**

**Never forget me, I’ll be on my way…’**

**Sometimes, I think that I was hurt more**

**because caring for you was never a chore.**

**Even if our love will be forgotten next year**

**I will never forget you my dear**

Thorin heard the harsh, muffled sobs of his youngest nephew, and could only guess Fíli was of the same emotion, crying silently while comforting his brother. Thorin paid them no mind. His hobbit needed to hear the rest of the lullaby.

 

**Even if I never get to see you,**

**I’ll hope and I’ll pray,**

**We’ll meet far away,**

**And we’ll make a brand new start.**

**Say hello to the golden, shining ray.**

**Goodbye to those skies of gray.**

**Because I know we’ll start anew.**

**We’ll be together, just us two.**

Thorin glanced down at Bilbo’s hand sprawled on the ground. It looked as if to hold something. Thorin went to see, continuing to sing to his sleeping hobbit.

 

**Though we're apart**

**You'll always be in my heart**

**I'll dream of the day**

**I travel your way**

**And we make a brand new start**

 

In the tiny palm, roughly the size of a small coin of Erebor, was a little brown acorn. Thorin’s vision blurred with hot tears that threatened to spill. Voice shaking, and heart breaking, Thorin Oakenshield pushed through the last of the lullaby for his beloved, fearless hobbit that had given his life to save him.

 

**Say hello to that golden, shining ray,**

**Plant your trees today.**

**Because I know we’ll start anew.**

**We’ll be together, just us two.**

Thorin’s voice broke at the last word that he had barely managed to whisper aloud. Suddenly, a horn sounded from the watch tower, startling Thorin to sit up and reach for orcist, till he recognized the haunting tune the horn was playing. Thorin glanced behind him and saw his nephews curled around each other, their shoulders shaking. Dwalin stood facing the towers, eyes red and face blank of emotion. Thorin followed his gaze and saw Leoláin at the mouthpiece of a large horn, blowing the notes to signal someone of royal importance, has passed.

 

_Bilbo has passed. My beloved, wonderful, undersized grocer that turned out to be the world’s greatest burglar, is dead. He’s gone._

  
And in that moment, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thror, forgot everything and everyone around him to mourn over the death of his hobbit.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's where I'm gonna end it! I'll decide later is I will continue it the way my friend wanted it to go, but I'm gonna leave it at that for now. Live long and prosper fellow baggenshield shippers!!! I'm sorry!!!!


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